


And then I wish it all would turn to black

by Zebooboo



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Whirlwind (Destiny)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 03:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19759924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zebooboo/pseuds/Zebooboo
Summary: Chelchis refuses to give an easy end to this life.He will stand.





	And then I wish it all would turn to black

**Author's Note:**

> small drabble, just had some feels for Chelchis *sniffles*

He aches. Pain races through his body, rattling in his bones and make him want to bellow and scream and plead and _beg_...

The Great Machine leaves and takes the comfort and the love with it. Chased away by the gnawing hunger and the deep dark and Chelchis aches. Oh, how he suffers...

He watches as the brightness of the sky dims and fades, his palms tingle from the Strength abandoning him. They still shimmer from the last touch he could offer to the Great Machine before it left them. It had not heard their pleas, not heard his desperation. Where does it go? To where he cannot follow? Leaving them to their deaths and their exile? 

The last blinking lights of the last jumpship leaving their Home behind winks out of existance before his eyes and leaves him in the dark. He breathes slowly, ether dancing in the air around him. There is noone left here.

He is alone and the hunger comes.

His fists clench when the bone shattering screeches reach his ears. There is nowhere to go, nobody to call. And Chelchis refuses to move. He sets his shoulders, steadies his heart and turns to face it, face the end of his people.

It's a shadow darker than the veil of night that has fallen now that the Great Machine is gone. All consuming and ever hungry, it reaches for the last dregs of his remaining Strength. Drains it from him with no remorse and scraps at his insides greedily. As if it could tear his very self apart and devour him piece by piece. He trembles from a weakness he both despises and refuses to acknowledge.

Bone scrapes loudly over the ground, great booming steps close in on him. Chelchis feels his claws shiver from the closing proximity. He knows this one by name, the last grace he knew before the Great Machine left. To know the name of the annihilator of his people.

He stands on trembling feet to face the Hive God. Chelchis refuses to give an easy end to this life. He will stand. If he cannot fight, he will _stand_ and face him. He would have no honour left otherwise.

A deep darkness settles around him, blotting out any remnants of light by which to see. The whispers follow at its heels, drilling into his head and his mind and he shakes his head to try and push them away. The footsteps are closing in, loud and earth cracking.

Chelchis pulls his head up to look at the conqueror coming to stand before him, sword in hand and an army at his back. The Darkness beacons.

He shakes, his knees barely keeping him upright and he stares back, unafraid. He will face this Oryx. And it will be his last act.

The sword rises and falls. Chelchis feels empty.


End file.
